


Promptis: Cinderella Edition

by qinnamon



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, cinderella rewrite, for ever after zine, thanks for buying if you did!, this is the full version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qinnamon/pseuds/qinnamon
Summary: If Prompto had one trait, above all other traits, it was that a part of him would never let go.





	Promptis: Cinderella Edition

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!
> 
> So yeah. I did it. I got into the Promptis Fanzine, Ever After! It was kind of a wild ride getting into this (and then figuring out how zines work...) but here we are. We've finally reached the date that the zine has been shipped out and I can finally post this baby.
> 
> For all of you who purchased it, thank you so much! This is the first time I've done something like this. I hope to participate in more zines in the future or alternatively make more works for other people, but I'm pretty proud of the way this turned out.
> 
> With that out of the way, please enjoy the full version of my work!

Prompto Argentum of Hammerhead, a small town right outside of the Castle Town of the Kingdom of Lucis, lived a very simple routine: every day he worked hard on paintings, photography, and his schooling; and every night his parents read him a story to lull him to sleep. Prompto had a tendency to pour his heart and soul into his creations, and of _course_ he kept up with his studies, like any good boy should — but despite his passion for these things, night time was the time he looked forward to most. His parents, equally as good as he was, spent their own days working; when night fell upon them, that’s when Prompto came to see them as he tucked himself in bed and their voice carried him for the rest of it until he fell asleep. Sometimes they would read the same story more than once, and other times they would surprise him with something completely different; but no matter what they read, Prompto was always enthralled and looking forward to the next one the day after.

 

His favorite stories were fairy tales. While they would recite to him fiction as well as non-fiction, and his tastes developed as he neared teenhood, he always had a soft spot for them. The simple, but gratifying stories that he had read to him displayed magic and wish fulfillment in its entirety, from great dragons being slain to gallant men winning in wars to fairies granting peace during hardship. He learned later of the more gruesome side to these stories, that the versions he’d been told had been watered down for the sake of children listening, but it never managed to dislodge his attachment to them. Mostly, he loved those fairy tales in particular because of the happy ending and the message that they left him at the end. A night could be harrowing, he could have had gnawing anxiety in his stomach over a test, he could be longing for more as normal ambition suggests: but the happy endings always left him falling asleep feeling everything was right in the world.

 

Most of all, they gave him precious time with his parents, a privilege that Prompto came to believe he should have appreciated more while he still had it. Prompto grew accustomed with the idea that it would always be this way, that he would have his parents, because it was routine. Nothing disrupted that routine, and he was doing well with his grades so he didn’t suffer there, either. There might have even been the hint of a pre-teen romance beginning to develop with a local girl also living at Hammerhead. It was easy, after growing up on fairy tales, to believe peace and happiness lasted forever.

 

It happened late at night: the good boy, Prompto Argentum, fell asleep in his bed, and it deafened him to the potential cacophony that would surround him otherwise. He had inklings of a feeling beforehand that something might go awry, that the world around them wasn’t as peaceful as his parents may have made it out to be, but the very _last_ thing he, or anyone for that matter, could expect was being dragged out of his bed early in the morning by men wearing dark suits, shady glasses framed over the bridges of their noses, and glares sharp as a knife as they dragged him away and the scent of smoke caught within his nostrils, tears collecting in his eyes as it did.

 

They at least allowed him the mercy of collecting one of his belongings with him, and it was the big book of fairy tales that Prompto lugged with him as they jabbed their palms into his shoulders and pushed him out of the blaze, screeches of agony ringing hollowly within his ears. One of those screams may have been his, he didn’t remember. He _did_ remember nearly leaving the book to burn along with everything else that he believed would be eternal.

 

But if Prompto had one trait, above all other traits, it was that a part of him would never let go.

 

x x x x x

 

His new home became a larger house within the capital of the Kingdom of Lucis itself, Insomnia. Assigned by the king himself, Prompto may have believed for all of a couple of days that even if he lost his parents and even if he lost his way of life, he might be able to build anew here within the capital, that whoever had him now might have been his savior; dreams and light thoughts swirled within his head, courtesy of the book he’d brought with him.

 

Such dreams were dashed once he actually met Master Ardyn.

 

If Prompto carried on anything from his parents, it was his willingness to forgive and give chances. So when his initial impression of Master Ardyn was _slimy, greasy man who resembled the old hag of Snow White_ , he still did his best to smile in the face of him. Master Ardyn smiled back, but though Prompto was very young and the master was very old, Master’s smile showed crooked teeth and crooked lips and overall crookedness that did not sit well within Prompto’s stomach. Prompto may have realized that Master Ardyn was not even _attempting_ to disguise his true intentions, but he was too busy thinking about the fact that it hurt whenever the master grabbed his wrist like that.

 

“Let me show you around,” Master Ardyn said, words hissed out not unlike the snake speaking to Mowgli. “I’m certain that you would like to know the… _accommodations_ of your new abode, yes?”

 

Prompto didn’t know what two of those words meant, but he nodded obligingly — not that he had much of a choice with the iron grip that the master had upon him. He was ushered throughout the house, being introduced to the living room, the kitchen, laundry room, cellar; everything _seemed_ typical, up until the master began to take him upstairs. From there he noticed four rooms stretched along the hall, though he couldn’t gauge anything else before the master tugged him toward two of the rooms’ doors.

 

“These are where your siblings will be housed!” Master Ardyn crowed. He paused. “Oh, dear. _Step_ -siblings. That’s right.” Something about the correction made Prompto feel sicker. “Don’t look so downtrodden… I understand that you’ve gone through such tragedy, but your siblings will be here to comfort you!” Nothing about that coo comforted Prompto, but he wanted to latch onto it. He thought about greeting his siblings— “Though…you shouldn’t _bother_ them. You understand? That will make me _veeeery_ angry!”

 

_Bother_. As if asking for something grounded was a _bother_.

 

Prompto didn’t have long to consider it before he was taken to the third room.

 

“And _this_ will be your room! It used to be where we stored the wine,” Master Ardyn waved a hand, “but we have a cellar now, so this is fine. Did your parents used to drink wine, my dear Prompto?” He didn’t know whether he should answer that question or not. The master didn’t allow him the opportunity to, anyway, because it was only a couple of seconds before he was yanking him along again. “Anyway, finally…”

 

And the final door, emblazoned in gold which set it apart from the first three doors they stopped in, yawned in front of them. “ _This_ is my room.” Master Ardyn’s smile dropped as he turned his gaze back to Prompto. “You are never to enter this room. Understand?”

 

Prompto knew danger when he saw it and nodded, but it was hard to imagine someone who could contort their face like that as a good guy. All the villains in fairy tales made their faces look like that.

 

“Splendid!” Prompto didn’t realize how tight his grip really had been until he released it, and his wrist looked white. “I will give you time to adjust, and then I will give you the rules of this household, okay? You have one day.” The master swept around with a flourish before he went into his room. Prompto watched him retreat into it before he himself went to find his own room, still carrying the book within his other arm.

 

When he did enter it, it was small and hardly furnished, and Prompto had to put the book on the one bed that the room had, a bed that he soon fell into as all the energy within his body swept out of it with one movement. The master’s smile remained at the back of his mind, and so did the screams that came with it; probably would seem like a cheesy low budget film, what his mind produced, but to Prompto everything was painfully real.

 

Prompto might have wondered about those siblings that he had, but he would discover them the next day instead as he slipped into the first sleep of his home.

 

x x x x x

 

The next day was focused on ground rules and setting a new routine. Prompto’s old one sprang to mind, of going to school, of pursuing photography (he realized, belatedly, that he’d left his camera back at his old home), of maybe getting to know his siblings — but the next day helped to establish that anything he used to know was no longer going to apply in this new life, that his life had officially and fully turned completely upside down.

 

House rules were established, which Prompto committed to memory, even though Master Ardyn repeated them a few times as if he was too thick to understand them the first time:

 

1 - No running, no loud noises, and no fighting.

2 - All chores must be completed by 6 PM.

3 - Curfew is 10 PM.

4 - No bothering Master Ardyn if he is in his room.

5 - Meal times will strictly be held at 7 AM, 12 PM, and 6 PM.

 

These rules were simple enough, and didn’t differ too strongly from what he had at home. That made the differences stick in him even further like a knife.

 

For one thing, Prompto learned very early on that he would not be attending school again. “Why bother,” Master Ardyn said at the time, “when you already have your very own best teacher _here_?” Never mind the fact that Prompto discovered over the coming days that Master Ardyn never bothered to _teach_ anything. Or rather, teach _him_ ; Prompto saw that his siblings had their own text books. He also saw that they had their own objects to play with, the older one with a video camera and the younger one with a full video game set.

 

Prompto learned two more things after he asked Master Ardyn for a camera: 1) that Master Ardyn was not going to give him anything, and that 2) asking Master Ardyn for anything was a terrible idea.

 

His rear stung for what felt like a week after Master Ardyn’s palm met it, and Prompto didn’t repeat that mistake, never asking for anything again, even when he noticed, two weeks in, that he was being saddled with far more chores than either of his other two siblings… And even when the two of them began to call him names, shove him aside when he accidentally happened to be standing in the way of them, and relentlessly told him that he was fat and no one would love him.

 

It didn’t take long for Prompto to realize what they all wanted from him: a quiet boy who never spoke up, who never wanted anything, and who never could do anything right in their eyes, even after he started eating less due to the ‘fat’ comments. Maybe if he were older he’d realize such comments were stupid, but with every teenager as every teenager does, such comments jabbed into him like a knife. And maybe, just maybe, they hurt worse after his previous parents showed him nothing but kindness, care, and love.

 

This was usually the part of the story that kids would give into despair, that they would begin to engage in harmful acts in order to free themselves; but Prompto, thankfully, already had something that could help him get by, that could distract him and numb his mind while he tended to his daily chores. Actually, the daily chores themselves were probably the highlight of his day, because he was rarely interrupted while he was working on them (he suspected it was because they feared his clumsiness and that he would spill water all over them; they had very nice clothes, which he never was given, not even on his birthdays).

 

Every night, Prompto read his fairy tales again and he imagined his parents’ voices drifting in his ears as the letters jumped out of the page and to his mind’s eye. He’d trace them with his fingers sometimes, or he’d even imagine the scenes from the fairy tales within his head. He remembered not liking Peter Pan as much when he was smaller, but that story especially carried him on in this household, as if there was a distant hope that Peter Pan would come and whisk him away out of the window, take him far away from this home that felt more like a prison and allow him to meet kids just like him, and Peter Pan would dance and sing songs with them. Prompto’s voice was getting rusty so he didn’t think he could sing as well as he used to, but he would hum to himself occasionally at night if he thought Master Ardyn couldn’t hear.

 

Prompto missed his camera, but he didn’t regret choosing the book over it. And wishful thinking made him think that he’d maybe be able to get another one someday, anyway.

 

His chance looked him in the eye when he neared adulthood.

 

x x x x x

 

Prompto heard stories even before the house shift of the King and Prince of Lucis. The king was thought to be a benevolent king by his parents, and the prince regarded as charming, if a bit lazy. He and his parents never thought they’d ever personally be visited by either of them, with the former being a busy man and the latter sticking to Insomnia.

 

His parents might not have seen either, but Prompto could proudly say that he’d met the prince.

 

He came knocking on the door on a foggy afternoon, and he was just as bright and magnificent as the stories said he would be. Prompto was captivated instantly by the way that he strolled in easily as if he wasn’t just walking into a prison of a home, with a slight stutter to his gait that suggested a limp but if anything, the imperfection made him _that_ much more appealing to Prompto to look at. Dressed in all black as was typical of the Lucian royals, the prince was calm, blinks slow and easy even as Master Ardyn dwarfed him in size, and Prompto wanted that courage himself.

 

“My, what brings the Prince of Lucis here?” the master purred out in that sickening way that Prompto still hadn’t quite become accustomed to.

 

Prompto’s heart lurched as the prince’s gaze scanned the room and then eventually landed on him, even if he didn’t address Prompto being there. “Just stopping by,” he said, voice slow and even tempered in a way that brought Prompto to earth. It was three words, but Prompto could tell immediately the kind of person that the prince was, and for some reason such a realization made his heart ache. He nearly missed what he said next— “You signed up for the initiative, so someone was supposed to come in and see how it was doing. Old man’s busy and the others are already checking.”

 

And then those eyes, _those eyes_ , focused on Prompto again. “Is that him?”

 

“Is he bothering you?” Those words instantly made Prompto’s spine stiff, and he was ready to leave the room then—

 

“No, he’s not bothering me.” And Prompto was sure that his heart was completely lost in his stomach at the way that the prince’s face relaxed further, and it was the first time anyone, stranger or no, had paid any special attention to him in a long time. “Hey. Noctis. And you?”

 

Prompto _could have_ made himself look cool in front of the prince. He could have. That doesn’t mean he did. “M-m-me?” he squeaked.

 

Prince Noctis raised an eyebrow, and Prompto felt foolish. “Do I look like I’m talking to anyone else?” His eyes crinkled up in good humor. “Of course I mean you.”

 

“Ah, haha.” But for some reason, the bubbling nervousness deep within his chest was a _welcome_ change. It wasn’t the dread from Master Ardyn’s hand. It wasn’t the indignation as his siblings got something he didn’t. It wasn’t the cold acceptance as he realized his situation wouldn’t change. And maybe that was why he was finally smiling in what felt like _years_ as he replied, “I’m, uh, Prompto Argentum! It’s, it’s nice to meet you!”

 

Any remainder of Prompto’s insides that were intact melted upon the smile that the prince gave him in response, the first _warm_ smile that Prompto received in such a long time he greedily took it in with his eyes as if he could snapshot it with a camera. “So,” Prince Noctis extended the ‘o’ as he turned his gaze back to Master Ardyn, and as Prompto followed he noticed that the master looked…oddly _angry_ , for some reason. “I’m gonna borrow him for a few, that okay?”

 

Excitement surged through Prompto’s veins, but for a terrifying moment he was pretty sure that Master Ardyn would refuse, given the dark frown he was giving; that was, until he actually replied. “That sounds fine with me! Just be sure to return him by 10 PM, that’s his curfew.” Prompto spent enough time with Master Ardyn to know that the tone that he used was a faux cheerfulness, and he could not leave the house by Prince Noctis’s side too soon.

 

Their walk was silent for a while, but that was okay for Prompto because it was the first time in a long time he’d been able to see the outside world. The busy streets, the buildings lined from end to end, and Prompto could even see the citadel, probably a _normal_ sight for the prince walking next to him — and it opened up his entire world, as if the world wasn’t limited to the small building that he’d been trapped in for _years_ , as if something lay out there, as if he existed within a world where opportunities sprung open if he just dared to reach them, if the right opportunity was just presented in front of him and a hand lay for him to grab.

 

When they _did_ speak up, it was just the typical small talk, about the weather, about places to go; the prince seemed genuinely surprised that Prompto didn’t know anything about the arcade, and recommended that he visited there sometime. For Prompto, though, ‘typical’ was an _amazing_ term; all of the words that they exchanged between each other resembled not only that of friends forming, something he never had with his siblings, but even the normal conversations he’d have with his mom and dad whenever he returned home from school. Rather than the iron gates that surrounded him, the pain of a palm or fingers upon his wrist, or being called names and being shouted at for doing what he felt was right, he exchanged words that said very little and yet said so much at the same time, and he did so with someone who truly _wanted_ him, someone who thought he was interesting conversation.

 

Was Prompto selfish, if he didn’t want to let this go? It wasn’t anything deep. He knew that. But it meant the world to him, this respite from the hell he’d been trapped in.

 

And then Prince Noctis waved even more magic in front of his face as he said, “So, there's a ball coming up.” He explained that being Lucis royalty meant that he had to attend fancy dinners and dances all the time. “This one in particular is important, according to my dad.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Well, I’m supposed to pick a suitor for the ball.” Prince Noctis frowned. “‘cause you know, never mind picking someone I actually _like_ or anything.”

 

And a sudden, and rather frightening, idea hit Prompto. “Dude — is anyone allowed to go?”

 

Prince Noctis seemed to pick up on that and smiled. “You planning on going? It could make the whole thing less boring. Yeah, anyone can go. It’s in a couple of months and it’s being held at the citadel.”

 

Prompto’s heart thundered at that, at both the invitation and the opportunity that was being presented. Prince Noctis _wanted_ him to be there. “I’m in.”

 

He didn’t check for permission with Master Ardyn, but he didn’t _want_ to. He was tired of the master controlling every aspect of his life. And it was apparently the right answer to give Prince Noctis, too, because Prince Noctis smiled again, and Prompto might have imagined it, but the grip that he had upon his hand (which he’d only just noticed was there in the first place!) tightened. “Sweet.” It was more than _sweet_ ; something gave Prompto the impression that Prompto was one of the first meaningful bonds with anyone that the prince had ever made.

 

For Prompto, it was straight out of a fairy tale, yet not at the same time. It was something new, it was some kind of getaway, some kind of escape… He didn’t have to be trapped under the heel of ill fate forever.

 

That night gave him the best night of rest he’d had in a long time with renewed courage to face the future.

 

x x x x x

 

Prince Noctis kept coming back every once in a while and taking Prompto out on walks. During these walks, he learned a great deal about both the prince and about his home life.

 

Prince Noctis went to school, but it was a prestigious one and he barely made any friends. He did have two, Ignis and Gladiolus, who Prompto managed to meet personally during one of these walks. Ignis lived with Prince Noctis and took care of him, since Prince Noctis didn’t live at the citadel with the king, and Gladiolus was tasked with protecting Prince Noctis at the first sign of trouble. Ignis was a bit quiet, but studious and quick-witted; Gladiolus was a bit gruff but gregarious. Both of them said that they liked Prompto upon meeting him, that he was funny and plucky. They also shared a glance between each other when Prince Noctis spoke about Prompto, but Prompto, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what it meant.

 

Prince Noctis had extracurricular in the form of training, so on certain days Prompto didn’t get to see him. On the days he did, Prince Noctis showed him his favorite spots around Insomnia. Prompto didn’t tell him these were the few times he managed to get out, lying about going back to the arcade and playing Space Invaders for the billionth time. Prince Noctis must have noticed that the high scores never changed, but if he did he didn’t say anything. Instead, he always played along with the lie and Prompto felt a little bad about it. _At the ball, you’ll get to see the real me. You’ll know everything. I promise._

 

Prompto wasn’t sure if he imagined the mutual attraction on their part or not. Prince Noctis seemed to smile more whenever Prompto was saying something than anyone else, and he went out of his way to invite him on more outings, even outside of this ‘initiative’, whatever the heck that was. He even seemed interested when Prompto shared his fairy tale book. Prompto knew, though, how _he_ felt about the prince. He was like an angel, clearing the fog that blackened his life, a bright light within the sky in the middle of the night. Some of Prompto’s dreams became filled with the prince and him running away from Prompto’s home together, and he even daydreamed in the middle of chores of the prince taking him away forever.

 

But Prompto was more than a dreamer. When Prince Noctis gave him a camera for his birthday, Prompto knew what he was going to do: he would free himself from under Master Ardyn’s thumb and explore this venue. He might have been scared at first that Prince Noctis didn’t share his feelings, but Prompto knew he couldn’t live like this anymore. He would find out firsthand. He would attend that ball.

 

It was why he spent the last two weeks before it preparing. While he may not have any fancy clothes of his own, he did learn over the course of doing chores for Master Ardyn how to stitch and create clothes of his own. He also made sure to privately practice dancing; while Master Ardyn didn’t let him play video games, he did have his own television within his room and he made use of cassettes that contained dancing routines. He didn’t question why Master Ardyn had them to begin with. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? Those two weeks allowed him to grow comfortable with his step, even if he was pretty sure he was still a klutz. 

 

Finally, the date reached on his wall calendar. 8 PM quickly approached, and after dinner and getting ready, Prompto made his way to the door.

 

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought that Master Ardyn would stop him.

 

“And where do you think _you’re_ going?”

 

The dread returned, stifling out any hope in full force. Master Ardyn’s dark grin didn’t make him feel any better.

 

“Off to the ball, hmm?” Prompto’s heart jolted at that, wondering how Master Ardyn even _knew_. “Are you hoping to tie the knot with the prince? Tsk tsk. You should _know_ that you’ll be happier _here_. After all — what makes you think the prince would _want_ someone like you?”

 

“You… You don’t know,” Prompto spoke up with a trembling voice, the first time in a long time he’d _ever_ spoken back to Master Ardyn. “H-he could.”

 

Master Ardyn stared at him for a while. Much like the cheshire cat, he grinned. “I see. Well, if that is the way you feel…” He shrugged. “You may go.”

 

_Wait, what?_ “R-really?” Prompto examined Master Ardyn for some kind of trick, but the man’s face didn’t change.

 

“Yes. Go ahead! Maybe the prince _will_ like a _child in dirty rags_ ,” Master Ardyn sneered. And _that_ was apparently a secret cue, as Prompto’s siblings suddenly made their way to Prompto like vultures, and his heart pounded as he backed away from them. “I shall see you in the morning, I imagine,” and with that, Master Ardyn walked away.

 

And it hit Prompto then, with an abject horror: his master knew the whole time, and he prepared his siblings for this. Such a realization came in the form of the siblings mocking him in nasally tones and beginning to _strip_ parts of the outfit that he’d painstakingly made, covering it in blotches. One of them even grabbed a can of paint just lying around that Prompto had been too tired to clean up the previous night and splashed Prompto all over with it, making him look like a drowned cat that just managed to clamper out of a sewer.

 

The cackles of his siblings rang about within his ears, and he felt like a carnival display for everyone to laugh at and make fun of, and it really hit him then: there was no way that Prince Noctis would like him like this, would want him like this. He was fat, he was hideous, his clothes weren’t even _ball-worthy_ ; Prince Noctis probably wanted someone with high standards, someone _thin_ , someone _pretty_. Someone who wouldn’t be like him. And with that realization came the other one that Prompto would _never, ever_ be free.

 

He ran out into the dark of the night with tears trailing down his cheeks and whimpers leaving his throat with mocking laughter following him.

 

x x x x x

 

Prompto was silly. He was silly because he still bothered to make his way to the citadel, even if he froze upon its steps and then fell onto his rear. He rebuked himself for ever believing that happily ever after could exist for him — after all, that was how it was in fairy tales, right? And this wasn’t a fairy tale. This was reality.

 

Gods, but he wished that Master Ardyn had decided to tell him _in advance_ that he would sabotage his plans; his nice-looking clothes that he made from plaid patchwork as well as specifically tailored to fit in with the Lucis aesthetic, what with the blacks and browns all over his shirt and even the jacket that he made, were now ruined beyond repair and there was nothing he could do to reverse it. Now there were blotches of pink and blue where there shouldn’t be and tears all throughout the shirt and the jacket. He honestly wondered why he was wearing the jacket in particular; lot of good it would do now, for warming him as well as for looking good.

 

He reflected on the fact that Prince Noctis had not only the prettiest smile in the world, but accepted him despite what he saw then… But that didn’t mean he wanted a partner who looked like that. Honestly, Prince Noctis was a _prince_ ; he’d want someone who could meet his standards, right? He did feel a little sorry for him, the fact that he _must_ pick someone to marry, so how could he so arrogantly throw himself into the ring of those to pick from? It wasn’t as if he had much to provide. Just a camera, a lot of dreams, and wishes, all of which were dashed that night anyway. Prince Noctis probably only wanted him there so that he’d have a friend who could offer him moral support, and Prompto was pretty sure he wasn’t good at doing anything like that, either.

 

He’d asked Gladiolus, once, what interest Prince Noctis had in him. He’d told him some vague nonsense about Prompto making him happy. Well, great. Prompto was pretty sure video games made Prince Noctis happy, too, but Prompto hoped that a living being wouldn’t be on the same level as a _game_. Not that Prompto wouldn’t willingly play that role if he had to. He’d do anything to make Prince Noctis happy.

 

But he’d do even _more_ to get a new life for himself, and perhaps that was the problem: Prompto was selfish.

 

Prompto didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there feeling sorry for himself. But it was as if the gods wanted to give him three hundred more chances, because just as he’d been about to pick himself up and go home, he heard a voice behind him:

 

“Prompto, oh, _dear_. You look like a mess! What _happened_?”

 

Ignis.

 

Prompto explained what happened to him in full. He noticed the way that Ignis’s brow furrowed, but didn't say anything.

 

What he did say caught Prompto off guard: “Well, let’s get you fixed up, then, so you can attend the ball.”

 

Prompto blinked, and Ignis seemed to pick up on the meaning of that, because he continued, “Don’t look so surprised. We were counting on you coming here… His Highness _especially_. He wants to see you.”

 

Ignis had taken Prompto’s wrist, pulling him up as they headed toward an apartment not far from the citadel. Prompto couldn’t help it. He burst out: “Why are you doing this?”

 

Ignis leveled him with a gaze then, and he saw the sheer dedication to his prince, the sheer dedication to the throne, and Prompto wondered if Prince Noctis ever realized how _lucky_ he was to have friends like this. “You are not the only one who is looking for this ball to bring him a brighter future.”

 

x x x x x

 

Throughout Prompto’s life, he’d gotten used to a hand squeezing too hard, or a palm slapping him, or fingers tearing through his clothes and through flesh. But Prompto was absolutely convinced that for Prince Noctis, such touches were absolutely impossible.

 

Was he nervous? Absolutely. When he returned to the citadel, all cleaned up and dressed in something like a tuxedo, it felt like the bow was going to _choke_ him. But Ignis smiled at him, reassured him that it would be all right, and that Prince Noctis would love it. It was like Ignis was a guardian angel, looking after him; but something told Prompto upon looking at Prince Noctis and seeing the way his eyes lighted up when he spotted him that Ignis wasn’t playing that role for _him_.

 

Prompto wondered what his parents would have thought about the fact that he managed to link hands with Prince Noctis, about the fact that he was able to waltz with him in the middle of a crowd of people. He wondered if his parents would hold it against him for the surge of pride in his chest at the jealous faces as he kept himself nice and cozy within Prince Noctis’s arms. He wondered if his parents would be _proud_ of him, when he managed to not only be free of Master Ardyn’s clutches, but at the fact that he managed to bring about that dizzyingly sweet smile that only Prince Noctis could provide. _He_ was proud of himself for earning that, at least, even if his parents would never get to see it.

 

Prompto would explain to Prince Noctis later why he was so late, and Prince Noctis would promise him that it wouldn’t be like that anymore, that he would stay with him and Master Ardyn would never get a hold of him again. And _Prompto_ found himself promising Prince Noctis that nothing would be like he knew it before for him, either. A deep loneliness that the two of them settled themselves into because they felt fated to it alleviated itself, and as they slow danced together, Prompto knew one thing.

 

Sometimes, fairy tales really are based on reality.

 

Actually, two things. He also realized that Prince Noctis was a _damn_ good kisser.


End file.
